


you burn me up (and out)

by ryaelle



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-06-20 09:27:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15531252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryaelle/pseuds/ryaelle
Summary: Jungkook’s a lost soul who becomes an arm for the mafia, and Yugyeom’s a pretty abandoned thing who prostitutes for the mafia.  Jungkook gets jealous, Yugyeom gets jealous.  Neither of them are getting out though.





	1. Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Collection of works from the same au verse. Not perfectly linear, and not complete because author got lazy writing but wanted to share what had been written...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how it ends - this chapter of their life. With an ultimatum and a promise.

Yugyeom cries, and he means to empty out his clothes from the closets and leave. But he can’t tell what’s his anymore. Did he own these t-shirts or did Jungkook? He can’t even fucking tell their boxers apart anymore. This is what so many years did to them.

That’s how Jungkook finds him, suitcase filled with his essentials (crumpled bills, stacks of cash, laptop, notebook of names worth more than anything he owns, chargers, school books) and clothes around him. Yugyeom’s standing, clutching a printed floral shirt he’s more than sure is his. Except Jungkook stares at him stunned, muttering a ‘is that mine?’

“Fuck, keep it then.”  He tosses the shirt to the ground and bends to close the suitcase, zipper getting stuck every few agitated yanks.  He stands, suitcase upright next to him. 

“Where are you going?” Jungkook has the audacity to sound confused, as if he hadn’t screamed at him to get lost just the night before.

“I’m leaving.”

The second the words leave his mouth, his balance shifts.  He hears the suitcase clutter to the ground as if in a dream, distant and dull.  Jungkook is pinning him to the cold floor, and his hand wraps tight around his neck, and Yugyeom can’t breathe.  He can’t breathe, _he can’t breathe_ , and his nails dig in at first in instinct, before he relaxes, eyes falling shut as he uses his last remaining breath to murmur a “Kookie.”

The weight lifts and the manic gleam in Jungkook’s eyes is gone now, face wrinkling in worry instead.  Yugyeom inhales and inhales and inhales, moving his hand to pet at hair strands roughly, tell Jungkook through touch _I understand, it’s okay_ as he keeps murmuring “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it.  Don’t go, you can’t leave me.”

“I can’t keep doing this,” he says, minutes later.  His voice is hoarse, and he tries not to think about the red imprint on his neck.  Jungkook had slumped against his body, refusing to let up, face buried in his neck for comfort.  Yugyeom can feel the hot tears, the heated shuddering breaths because he’s lost control before, but not at Yugyeom, never at Yugyeom.  “I don’t sleep with them because I like it.  I do it because it buys your safety and my freedom.  I hate it when you come back to me hurt because they-- we," and it's an angry admission, "didn’t give you enough information, or some asshole prosecutor wouldn’t cooperate to let you out on bail because he didn't get his scheduled fuck for the week.  I can’t keep doing this, staying with you when you can’t protect me,” and Jungkook hates himself for the noise of protest that escapes him despite all the facts, “and you won’t let me protect you.”  It's a funny way of stating what he does.  It's not funny at all to Yugyeom when it's what he needs to think about to keep up the smile on his face as the hands of strangers glide down his body.

Jungkook presses his eyes close, the last tears squeezing out and he's not going to cry over this again.  He refuses to.  The cold dead weight slipped into his stomach then.  He’d always been good.  Could cock an assault rifle, handle the recoil, kill without recrimination, hold his own in any fighting pit, but he’d never had the ambition for this life.  They could run away from it all.  Run to an island where the sun would shine in Yugyeom’s highlights or a city, where he can walk around without watching for shadows, busk in the evening to make them money.  The nights would be for them alone, no tasks dragging him away, no targets for Yugyeom to lure.  They could stay in, cook dinner together, kiss under the evening sky.  Jungkook swallows.  He knows too well what happened to the ones that ran.  That's all they were at the end of the day, two assets that didn't belong to themselves, humanity meant for children.  “Stay, please,” he murmurs instead, pressing a kiss to a pale long neck.  “Stay, and I’ll change it all for you.”

Yugyeom doesn’t believe him, not because he doesn’t want to but because the world’s worn him down.  But he doesn’t know what Jungkook’s done in the shadows, how he has always gotten what he wants.  If the present didn’t work, he’d break it down, change it all to make it a world they couldn’t be hurt in.

He raised his head, letting Yugyeom see the truth on his face.

“Stay.  I’ll make sure nothing can hurt you or me again.”

Empires and bodies would fall for his promises, but Jungkook had always known he would give Kim Yugyeom anything and everything, the best of him and the worst of him.


	2. First Collision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not fate. It's circumstance that brings two sixteen year olds together. Jungkook can't refuse the puppy eyes, and Yugyeom finds himself a savior.

Theirs was a relationship that should never have happened.  Gyeomie, a kid with bright dreams but heavy debts and Kookie, a kid with dark dreams and heavy fists.  Yugyeom, the pretty prostitute with great legs and innocent eyes who could fuck his way into any politician’s bed and Jungkook, the enforcer with the scent for blood whose words could write laws.

It hadn’t been love at first sight, far from it -- but from the second Yugyeom had stepped into this life, they had been inseparable.  Jungkook had been in the midst of it for a couple years, getting into the swing of things.  He was being trained from the bottom up, from cleaning up spilled blood or beer to learning how to punch and hold a knife the right away.  Parents, gone, brother in this business and school unable to control him, he’d ended up in this club one too many nights until the owner had taken him under his wing. 

He’d been wiping down the bar when the too slender kid had been brought into the club.  “He’s working here from now on, show him the ropes.”  So Jungkook had showed him, the bar and the bouncer duties and where the cleaning supplies were and how to clean the glasses.  Yugyeom had been fighting tears that day, he remembered.  His voice shook with every question, terrified of what was happening to him, flinching at every shadow.  His parents had sunk into debts and after their gang had collected their car, their furniture, their home and were still left in the red, they had taken Yugyeom too.  Yet when he’d looked up at one point and smiled at him, so pure, Jungkook flinched.  He thought about stray cats that yipped at his heels as he fed them, hurt birds he’d tended to before taking flight, the guard dog that licked his palm gently enough to bely sharp fangs.  He thought he would give Yugyeom anything and everything to coax another one of those smiles.

“I don’t have other clothes,” Yugyeom said, embarrassment coloring his voice, three days later when Jungkook eyed the shirt stained with a too-familiar ketchup patch.  The next day, Jungkook looked at his closet, grabbing white button down shirts meant to be worn under a school uniform he would never wear again.

“I didn’t have a chance to eat earlier.  I’m so sorry, please don’t tell them,” Yugyeom pleads when Jungkook catches him gulfing down candied cherries and canned olives in the stock room.  He looks away when Yugyeom cries the first time he passes over the kimbap for lunch, somehow having bought too much earlier, and tries not to pay attention to how slowly Yugyeom savors every bite through tears.  He continues to buy a bit too much every day after that, and ignores how his heart speeds up the first time he brings Yugyeom a convenience store chocolate milk, and Yugyeom full out _beams_ at him.

“I don’t have anywhere to stay,” Yugyeom says, holding the sleeve of his shirt when they’re leaving the club.  It’s dawn now and the sunlight illuminates Yugyeom’s face, lines there outlining the stress a sixteen year old shouldn’t have.  Jungkook lets him come home with him that day.

Yugyeom never leaves.

They start getting to know each other, knees bumping on the single floor bed as they share secrets.  Jungkook tells him about how he misses his mother’s hugs, how even as she got sick, she still had the same strength to hug him.  He talks about how his brother won’t look at him anymore, as though _he_ failed Jungkook when Jungkook’s the one who beat up other kids in school until he couldn’t distinguish the days he was suspended from when he had to attend school.  Yugyeom tells him how he came home one morning and his parents were gone from the small apartment they were leasing, and the landlord had kicked him out finally.  He mentions how much he misses his mother’s fried rice, his father's singing around the house, the friends he had in school and the dance classes he can no longer afford. 

(They don’t say anything about it when Yugyeom starts to hug Jungkook tight every day, never looking him in the eye as his cheeks redden.  They don’t talk about it when Jungkook goes out of his way to buy fried rice from different stalls until he finds one that has Yugyeom’s eyes widening.)

That lasts all of eight months.  They were cleaning before the club opened.  Yugyeom was bent over, wringing out the mop and the boss had walked in.  He’d paused, men stopping at his side as he’d given Yugyeom’s figure a long look.  Jungkook should have paid attention to the uneasiness that struck him then.  One look, and things changed.

Since that day, Yugyeom never needed a shirt for his work really.  His body was oiled and he rolled his body on stage, hips thrusting with far less innocence.  “I told you I danced,” Yugyeom said that night, hands clutching his own shirt in nervousness as he tried to fend off Jungkook’s confused questioning.  Jungkook feels the missing presence by his side.  Tells himself it's the extra hand he's missing when cleaning and someone to talk to as they stocked the dishwasher and bar.  They walk home together though, shoulders bumping as they swayed, watching the day brighten with the sun rise, sharing a shower with askew limbs and haste as they hurried to fall into bed.

Something starts to simmer between them, something Jungkook can’t put a word to.  How when he looks up to the dancer stages, he sometimes (too many times) catches Yugyeom’s eyes heavy on him.  How Jungkook needs to pretend to stay asleep when Yugyeom moves away from him in the early dawn after they’ve crawled into bed, bedsheets rustling tellingly and moans muffled.  He doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t say anything to stop it.

He gets his own chance to escape the tedium of club routines when a turf war breaks out and they need extra hands.  Things get rough and he gets punched one too many times, mind fading, and when he’s found by the others, there are two men who will never breathe anymore with faces that cannot be recognized.  (Yugyeom holds him extra hard that day, doesn’t let up even when Jungkook’s not sure if his rib’s fractured.)  After that, when he goes back to the club, it isn’t to clean up – not the way he used to before at least.

They don’t really talk about it.  How they’re both gone through the nights and no longer know what the other’s up to.  How when Jungkook comes back with bruises and blood, Yugyeom kneels in between his legs and patches him up, one bandage at a time as he pelts Jungkook with questions.  “Does this hurt?”  “Did you beat him back as good?”  “How are you going to get any girls with a black eye, huh, Kook-ah?”

How when Yugyeom comes back, eyes lost, Jungkook holds him, eyes and hands searching carefully to see if anything’s wrong, if any bastard touched him wrong on the dance floor and he needs to warn someone off.  It’s around then the whining starts, refusing to go to sleep if Jungkook wants to play one last game before he crashes, calling him if he’s still out to ask how long till he’s home.  The guys laugh about how he’s got a girl waiting.  Yugyeom gets clingy, and Jungkook wonders, but he comes home just the same.


	3. Fighting Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's all kinds of monsters out there.

“Hey, stop it,” Jungkook forgets for a second that he’s supposed to ignore this.  There’s shaking next to him, and he’s fine with Yugyeom jerking off under the covers even if he doesn’t.  What he’s not fine with is Yugyeom waking him up to it again.  A small moan breaks out, and it sounds more like a sob.  Jungkook sighed, ready to turn over and away when a small scream breaks, strangled down.  His eyes are open now, and in the light of midday, he can clearly see that Yugyeom’s asleep.  Eyes close, lips pursed and neck straining.  He’s shaking, the same movement Jungkook had mistaken earlier. 

Jungkook scrambled upright, knowing now that something’s not right.  “Hey, Gyeom,” and he shakes at a shoulder and like a magic touch, Yugyeom’s eyes open, gasping.  Jungkook stared flabbergasted.  “What’s wrong with you?” 

Yugyeom gapes at him, mouth opening and closing before his eyes squeeze shut, knees drawing in, hands tucking in between thighs and curling up on his side.  Jungkook blinked, reaching out tentatively to rub at the arm.  “Hey Gyeom-ah, was that a nightmare?”

There’s a slow nod, and then a slight shake of the head.  Jungkook’s confused but he waits, and legs part to let a hand loose to drag him back down.  A forehead presses into his shoulder, and Jungkook curls up on his side.  He ran a hand through hair, feeling the sweat dampening it and feeling the flash of concern.  “Talk to me,” he said, not unkindly.  “You scared me.”

It seems to unglue the younger’s tongue.  “It keeps happening,” comes the answer in sleep hoarse tone that smoothens out slowly.  “I know I’m not asleep but I can’t wake up.  Someone…  something holds me down.  It feels like a monster and it won’t let me up.  I know it’s not real, but I can’t leave it anyway.  I’m stuck there… and it scares me.”

This is one of the times Jungkook reaches out first, arm enveloping Yugyeom’s body into a hug, hand stroking his back.  “It’s just a nightmare, you big baby.”  His words are mocking, but his tone is soft.

He makes sure to come home around the same time as Yugyeom for a few weeks, puts off playing any games before sleep to hold the other close.  It turns out the ‘nightmares’ never quite go away.  Yugyeom fends off monsters in his sleep, and Jungkook tugs him awake gasping and into his arms. He doesn't know they're an extension of the monsters Yugyeom fights through waking hours. He doesn't guess in time before it's too late.

Once, he wonders why the monsters don’t come to plague him ever.  He’d take them on so Yugyeom wouldn’t have to learn how to apply concealer with careful fingertips into the grey under his eyes every night.  

(They probably know better.)


	4. Got your Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Broken arms and silent fights

Things change when Jungkook breaks his left arm.  He’d been on a motorbike he has no license for when blue and red lights flash in his rearview mirror.  This is something he can race away from, he thinks.  What he doesn’t count on is the pothole in the road, the seven feet he’s thrown into the air or the fall that has him screaming into the night as he lands on an outstretched arm.  He doesn’t come home for two days. 

(He later finds out that Yugyeom tracks down his brother the next day, yelling and screaming, making a fuss until he gets picked up and thrown out on the road.)  His brother is the one he wakes to in the hospital, fingers running through his hair.  It’s not that serious.  He fractured his radius and they had put him out to insert a metal plate to put it together where it connected to the wrist, realigning a broken piece. 

“I’ll cover the hospital bills, and the other issues.  Don’t worry about it,” his brother promises over a meal of pork stew and rice, ladling out Jungkook’s bowl.  “Stay home and recover for the next few weeks.  I’ll send you money.”  Jungkook nods silently, enjoying this moment too much to protest.  He gets driven home, only after convincing his brother that _“yes, he would be fine by himself”, “yes, I’ve got someone to take care of me”, “nooo, it’s not a girl, stop it hyung!”, “shut up, I am being safe, no, no, we don’t have to talk about it”_ and promises that he would contact him if he needed anything _(“I don’t need condoms, stop it already.”)_

His keys are missing, lost somewhere, but Yugyeom’s home, opening the door in wonder and pulling him close.  His brother leaves at some point while he’s still in the embrace, one which turns painful when Yugyeom throws fists at him and he has to avoid tender raw spots where friction with the road had ripped off skin.  “Stop, stop it, owww.”  His phone had also cracked and died, making him apparently miss the six dozen phone calls and voicemails that had prompted Yugyeom to go ballistic.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers only once.  Yugyeom doesn’t cry this time, though his eyes are red and angry.  His tone is angry for whatever Jungkook asks.  “No, I’m not going to the club tonight,” and he slams down the cooking pot, water sloshing out the edges. 

Jungkook watches concerned, as Yugyeom does something for the next hour, tutting around and pulling out ingredients that aren’t just instant ramen.  Since when had they had kimchi?  His suspicions brew, confirmed when Yugyeom’s phone rings and he passes it to Jungkook silently so he could talk to his brother.  He’ll stop by with a new phone tomorrow.

The kimchi stew is surprisingly good, even if he tastes ramen seasoning and pretends not to.  Yugyeom watches him through every bite. 

It’s hard finding a side to sleep on that night, and Yugyeom hisses when Jungkook turns again, trying to not put weight on his right shoulder that’s so painfully sore or the left that needs to be immobile.  “You’re so annoying,” Yugyeom whispers from the side, using a hand on his stomach to push him down before he can shift over again.  Jungkook gapes at the unending anger directed at him.  “What did I even do?” he asks, bewildered but annoyed himself at the attitude he’s gotten.  There’s an angered huff from his side, and Yugyeom turns, his back towards him.

They don’t talk the next day.  Well, Yugyeom ignores him and Jungkook doesn’t break the silence. 

He starts learning how to play one handed games.  He sucks at it, but he’s getting really better.  He can feel Yugyeom’s quiet judgement.  He ignores that in return.

They manage two days without talking, fueled by Yugyeom’s anger and Jungkook’s pettiness, before Yugyeom grabs his arm in the afternoon, pulling at him.  “What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, tugging his pained right shoulder out of Yugyeom’s grasp.  It comes out sharper than he’s wanted, and he softens at the hurt look blossoming over the younger’s face.

“You’re starting to smell.  I can’t sleep with you anymore.  I’ll wash you, come on.”

Jungkook wanted to protest, but there’s already wariness in Yugyeom’s eyes and he’s tired of their cold war.  “Alright, fine.”

It’s nothing unusual to be in the bath tub together.  What’s different is the soft hands that bend his head back, work shampoo through his hair and wash it out with warm water.  The warm hand that rubs across and down his back, soap foam a shitty layer in between.  Yugyeom makes him stand up, kneels in front of him to get his legs.  His eyes can’t stay off the red hair that’s bent down, the hands scrubbing at his ankles now.  His throat goes dry, and this is too much.

“I can do the legs—“

He’s cut off.  “Shut up or I’ll take you to a sauna and make you get a body scrub.  They’ll rub you raw.”  There’s a soft pat on one of his open wounds on his thigh that makes Jungkook cringe and shut his mouth.  He only protests, flinching again when hands come too high up his inner thigh, and Yugyeom sighs, rolling his eyes.  “Fine, you can do this.  If you get your cast wet though, I’m going to kill you.” 

Yugyeom rinses him down, pats the towel across his skin, and bandages up his skin.  He doesn’t help him into a new pair of clothes, snickering as he sees Jungkook struggle with getting the tank top over his body with only one functional arm that he could raise over his head without pain, and that too a broken one. 

“Aigoo, I never thought I’d be a dad at this age,” comes the soft complaint as Yugyeom finally takes pity on him and helps him, fingertips pressing into his side as the fabric is pulled down.  They’re too close, dust mites dance in the afternoon sunbeams and he can’t look Yugyeom in the eye.  Feels the weight of the gaze on him.  Those hands are still on him, underneath the fabric and a choked out sigh leaves him as those hands drop.  Yugyeom’s face is reddening tellingly, and Jungkook’s sure his is too.  The back of a hand hits his stomach.  “You’re going to lose all these abs if you sit around doing nothing all day.  Let’s go buy some food.  I’ll cook it for you before I have to go.”


	5. Helping Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only so much Jungkook can take. Except he can't make the first move.

Yugyeom washes his hair and he shouldn’t get hard but here he is.  Those hands have been on him relentlessly the last week.  Jungkook’s going crazy.  They’ve pinned him down when he tosses and turns in his sleep, they’ve massaged his shoulders helping him reobtain his range of motion, they’ve found their way under his clothes to rub his back as they watch movies, they’re on his bare body everyday washing him. 

They’re now running nails softly down his scalp, and Jungkook should be thinking about how to escape before Yugyeom comes to his front.  He shouldn’t be moaning softly, bumping his head back into those hands like an overeager dog but here he is.  Yugyeom laughs, washing out the suds from his hair with tender hands.

Jungkook wakes up from the too nice dream as Yugyeom reaches for the soap now.

“I can do the rest of it!” he says too frantically.  Yugyeom’s eyebrows rise. 

“I don’t mind,” he replied softly.

“No, no, just the hair is good.  I need to start showering by myself anyway.”

There’s a pause. “You don’t need me anymore?”

Jungkook knows what Yugyeom’s doing.  Yugyeom knows what he’s doing. The half smile gives him away.  His shoulders slump, giving up. Warm, wet hands are on him, pulling him up and wanting him to turn around.  Jungkook can’t believe he’s going along with this, that he can’t stop himself.  He squeezes his eyes, hopes Yugyeom will pretend nothing’s happening with his lower body and they can put this all behind them.

“Oh.”

Tough luck with that.  Jungkook stuffs down the sigh.  “This is why I said I’ll d—“

“Want me to help?”  He’s cut off and left gaping.

“Huh?”  He finally looks up in confusion.

Yugyeom is staring down, eyes focused, causing another flush of heat to rush his cheeks.  He looks up and his eyes are inexplicably dark.  “You need help with that?”

Jungkook pulls away, surprised. “Uhh…”

Yugyeom takes a step forward in turn.  “You jack off with your left hand,” he states firmly.

It’s a testament to more than a year spent under the same set of sheets.  For the first time, Jungkook wonders why they never bought an extra floor pad after all this time.

The wall hits his back and the tiles are cold, but not cold enough.  Curse Yugyeom for using warm water and being considerate.  He could have done with a cold wash by now. 

A hand wrapped around his back, pulling him away from the wall.  “I’ll help you, close your eyes. You can imagine someone else, anyone you want.”

There should have been a choice there somewhere.

Jungkook feels like there never was one to be made.

“O-Okay.”

His eyes slip close, head resting on Yugyeom’s shoulder as a hand wraps around him, causing a gasp to leave him.  Yugyeom’s good at this.  Precise strokes, firm, fast enough that Jungkook’s mouth parts, soft sounds leaving him as Yugyeom continues.  There’s no one else to imagine, and the thought overwhelms him. No one else he’d rather have his thoughts drift towards. He doesn’t last long, pent up for a couple days now.  He falls forward, body weight collapsing as soon as he’s done.

“Woah, woah,” Yugyeom’s laughing now, lowering him down to the stool they used.  “Sit down, I’ll finish up.”

Jungkook looks up gratefully, and reaches out his right hand to intertwine with Yugyeom’s.  Yugyeom doesn’t say anything, helps soap him up and wash off onehandedly.

It’s not the last time this happens.


	6. Ill Gotten Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is wrong with Yugyeom.

The month passes, then another, and yet another.  Jungkook recovers his functionality but he’s put off pulling any heavy weights for a while.  He can make the rounds again though, menial shit but better than sitting at home anymore.  There's a gap now, between him and Yugyeom, a fissure that grows and widens.  He also has a gift now though, one his brother had passed him secretively.  Keep yourself safe, he’d asked him.  There had been something final to that, as though he’d given up on changing fate.  An acceptance that Jungkook was in this for good, that he’s got blood on his hands, deaths on his tally and it would only grow.

Yugyeom finds it, and Jungkook feels something that might be fear when he sees Yugyeom playing with the handgun contemplatively one time.  It’s a feeling he doesn’t experience often.

“Put it down,” he says sharply.

Yugyeom looks up, and his fingers don’t leave the trigger.  The gun is facing the wrong way, the grip is all wrong.  It’s facing Yugyeom and it doesn’t fit his small hands, childish for that long body that keeps growing.  A weird smile possesses that face, and with his newly dyed bright yellow hair, it looks demented.

Jungkook’s eyes are wide.  Yugyeom closes his eyes, pulls the trigger. 

Jungkook grabs the gun away, grabs a handful of Yugyeom’s shirt with the other hand, as if he would disappear if he let him go, and Yugyeom has the gall to laugh at him.  “You have to pull the safety first, dummy.”

Jungkook knows that.  His heart is still racing.  Something is so wrong with Yugyeom.  This wasn’t a joke.  His blood is pounding.  He’s furious. More than he has been in a while.

“Don’t touch this again.  I’m fucking serious. Are you high?” he’s yelling.  Yugyeom raises his hands in mock surrender, making a face like he’s sucked on sour lemon.  Jungkook emptied the ammunition, stuffing the rounds into his back pocket.

The past moments flash before his eyes and his chest is still heaving. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he shouts, aggravated, not over it.  Yugyeom’s shoulders slump, and his face darkens and closes off. 

“I—nothing, it was just a joke.”  There’s something defensive to his tone. 

There’s silence for a second, punctuated only by his ragged breaths. Jungkook doesn’t know what to say, not when he’s not about to start laughing at this _joke_.  Then he tugs Yugyeom close, hears the shirt tear, couldn’t care less, and kisses hard into that mouth and feels Yugyeom stiffen in his hold.  He’s not surprised. They haven’t done this in a while. Not since... well, not since he... He bites the bottom lip hard when it doesn’t part for him, and it seems to break open the floodgates. Yugyeom surges towards him, arms wrapping around him. The empty gun clatters to the side, and his hands span that back for a moment, holding on to the weight that’s collapsed on him.  Hands move fast to shed clothes. 

Even wrapped up in the embrace, buried deep inside Yugyeom, Jungkook can’t forget the way those eyes closed, the way Yugyeom looked so peaceful in that moment.

His teeth find Yugyeom’s neck, and in a bite of possessiveness, he claims what’s his.  He pretends he doesn’t feel his gut clench when Yugyeom conceals the mark the next night.


	7. Causality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth finds its way, but everyone still lies.

It’s funny, how he’s not an innocent by any means but the shock still rings through him when he stands at the curb, laughing with the man playing bouncer.  Yugyeom comes out of the club, and he’s dressed in a way Jungkook hasn’t seen him before.  Silk black shirt, tight black pants, too much make up hiding all his moles except the one under his eye, red hair gelled back in a way that ages him.  Jungkook smiles, raises his hand to wave.  He’d meant to pick Yugyeom up after his shift ended but if he’s done, they can go.  Yugyeom smiles, and Jungkook pauses.  It’s an odd smile.  It’s one he hasn’t seen before.  No teeth, no sheepishness, all appeal.

It’s not directed at him.

The black car door that had been waiting at the curb opens its door.  Yugyeom slides in, right in front of Jungkook.  His eyebrows furrow.  The windows are darkened, but not so much to hide the head that hits it.  He’s brought out of his shock to rush towards the car, throwing off the hand that comes to pull him back.  He gets near it only to make out what’s actually happening – the man pinning Yugyeom to the window, the kiss they’re sharing, the arms Yugyeom has wrapped around him.

His jaw drops, and the car drives away in front of him.

He turns burning eyes back to the bouncer, the same one who’s had this role since he first strolled in at fourteen.  “What’s happening?” he demands.

His steps home are heavy.  It’s not the first time Yugyeom’s done this.  Not the second time either.  Months since he’s allowed himself to be pimped out.  Months since he’s slept with one too many men, moving off the public dance floor permanently.  He performs in the back rooms, paid by the minute, the hour.  Does this more than he dances, and he’s really good at it too.  Those hips know how to move, after all.

Jungkook knows he’s good at it.

Now he knows why. 

 

\--

 

“It was a mistake.”  _It wasn’t._

Jungkook says when Yugyeom wakes up the next day, past noon, hair messy, smile dopey.  His body is loose, warm, had melted into Jungkook’s arms, had acquiesced to the demands willingly, hadn’t complained when he’d been rougher, when his lips had been harder to reach.

“I- what?”  There’s a look on Yugyeom’s face, one that was sleepy and confused but morphing into dread.  Jungkook shouldn’t revel in it, but he wants to see it darken.

“What we’ve been doing, it was all a mistake,” he continues because the pain that bleeds into Yugyeom’s face feels like repentance.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, thanks for helping me out.  But my arm’s better now so let’s forget about it and not do this again,” Jungkook grits out, words forceful and boding no argument, tempered with the anger, envy and pain he’d felt at Yugyeom entwining tongues with a stranger.

He’s not looking at Yugyeom anymore, turning around to butter another slice of bread for his lunch.  As much as he asked for it, he isn’t prepared for the strangled “Fine, it wasn’t meant to happen anyway.”

Or the rage it inflicts.  Bread crumbles in his fist, and the red bleeds into his vision.

“I need to go,” Jungkook manages before he’s out the door and pounding down the stairs.

 

\--

 

“Pay attention to me, sugar.”

Jungkook is.  That’s how he knows Yugyeom’s moans are prettier. 

The warmth encapsulating him is soft, clinging to him.  She’s hot curves and her hair is everywhere.  Jungkook pushes it out of the way so he can kiss her.  She comes so easily to his touch.

He comes home, stinking of perfume and sex and lipstick smeared across skin, and crawls in beside Yugyeom.  When he wakes up hours later and Yugyeom flinches away every time he comes near, he pretends it’s fair to feel pleasure at his own vindictiveness.

It's not the last time this happens.


	8. The Clock Rewinds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before it all spins out of control.

There’s wisps of smoke on their ceiling.  Jungkook watches them swivel, takes in a deep inhale and lets more out to join them.  A half formed smoke ring escapes his lips and Yugyeom giggles behind him as it dissipates.  “I almost had it this time,” Jungkook pouts.  A hand rubs his bare abs, fingers exploring every plane and dip.  Jungkook’s not sure Yugyeom’s trying to comfort him or just map out his skin anymore.  He doesn’t quite care, leaning back into the shirtless chest with a spine that's forgotten how to be upright and holding up his hand with the blunt offered.  Yugyeom doesn’t reach up to take the blunt from him, his hand gently circling Jungkook’s left wrist instead, mindful, always mindful.  It’s been a couple weeks.  Jungkook forgets it’s broken sometimes, forgets it more when even the brief tinges of pain are swallowed up in marijuana's haze.  Yugyeom never does.

His hand is tilted back, and Yugyeom inhales the smoke, hums as it brushes his lungs, drugs entering his blood stream before he blows it out.  The room gets hazier.  They smoke one too many, and Jungkook is arching his back as nails graze down his stomach.  A thumb has been massaging his nipple for a while now, and his hips stutter as fingers go lower, onto his tented shorts and soft maddening circles are rubbed onto the outline of his cock.  He twitches.

“Gyeomie,” he whispers, and he squeezes Yugyeom’s arm, arching. 

“I’ve got you,” except the fingers just go lower, dragging fabric over his slit as he drips and wets it.  His thighs part, uncomfortably as the fabric brunches up, the tip of his cock escaping into the air. 

“You don’t wear underwear anymore.”  Yugyeom’s head is on his shoulder now, lips grazing his cheek.

“Tough getting it on,” Jungkook lies.

He turns his head, catches Yugyeom’s lips and dives in.  Yugyeom leads in everything but this, choking out sighs and moans and unable to keep up with the assault. 

(“You’re really good at kissing.  Have a lot of practice?” he asks him one day, back turned to Jungkook and shoulders oddly stiff.

Jungkook laughs, peals of laughter because of course, Yugyeom’s conscious about the only one thing he doesn’t know how to start.  “Maybe I’m just naturally good at it,” he replies teasingly.  “Unlike some people who need practice.”  He wrapped his arms around a stomach, smiling at the sharp, high yelp when he drags Yugyeom closer to him.  His grip is gentler as he turns Yugyeom to face him.

Their noses brush, and Yugyeom's eyelashes are already brushing his cheeks in anticipation. 

“It’s okay, I’ll help you practice.”)

He arches his hips again as Yugyeom pulls his shorts down, pushing it down further and kicking it off himself.  A hand wraps around him and Jungkook groans.  The heat is getting to him, and Yugyeom is too good at this.  He thinks he mumbles it out loud because there's soft laughter from behind him.

“Want me to do something different this time?”

He’s whining as he loses his support, falling into their sheets.  Yugyeom’s over him now, mouth trailing down his body, wet soft kisses pressed into his skin.  He's burning, body tingling while his mind is rocking, there but not quite there.  There’s only one direction he’s going in, but Yugyeom doesn’t get there, runs fingers down that inner thigh, parting his legs, presses kisses to skin and Jungkook’s whispering “please”, doesn’t realize he’s doing it.  He can feel Yugyeom smiling against his thigh, and there's a bite that definitely gets his attention, hips stuttering while he groans.  That ass.  He can’t keep thinking though-- Jungkook groans, loud, unrestrained when warm suction surrounds him, head thrown back.

(“Why are you so good at this?” Jungkook asks later.

He gets no response.)

His fingers run through hair, and Yugyeom’s bobbing up and down on him.  Every deep inhale is tinged with smoked air.  He’s dizzy, consumed in warmth and heat.  The feel of Yugyeom’s hands holding his hips down, the sound of suction, his own rasping groans.  He feels it in ebbs and waves, watches Yugyeom go down on him, pull up, closes his eyes as the younger licks at the tip.  Jungkook can’t help but whimper and amused eyes open to focus on him.  That’s how Jungkook comes minutes later, Yugyeom keeping his gaze on him the whole time, mouth keeping a careful pressure on him as Jungkook’s eyes slip close.

He’s panting and Yugyeom crawls back up to fall into the bedsheets next to him, his own insistent hard on, the same one that had been pressed into his back now at his thigh as Yugyeom sought out friction like a horny dog.

Jungkook turns, and he’s pawing Yugyeom’s sweatpants down, wrapping an eager but unpracticed hand around him in turn. 

“You’re not good at this,” Yugyeom complains a few pulls in and Jungkook growls.  Excuse him, he’s trying and it’s not his best hand, and this angle is different.  He grabs Yugyeom’s head roughly, dragging him into a kiss to shut him up, tightening his grip to stroke and Yugyeom comes so quick. Jungkook’s shocked.  Not as much as Yugyeom though, eyes wide and mouth open, face reddening. The snickers slip out, especially when Yugyeom buries his face into his hands. “Wow I must be pretty good at this,” he drawls, slapping his wet palm on a hip, and getting the exasperated squeal he’d expected.  He’s laughing, and Yugyeom joins along.  They should get up, clean up, but it’s so warm and Yugyeom’s rubbing his hip against him, unsubtly trying to spread the cum.  Jungkook rolls his eyes but doesn't move away.  Jeez, just because he’d swallowed…

“So how did I taste?” he asks, and makes a noise of protest against the eager lips that push against him, laughter escaping into the mouth. It’s hard to have a feeling for time with the smoke in the air, in their veins. They’re kissing endlessly and an insidious voice inside Jungkook thinks this is even better.  Yugyeom's fully in his reach, he can wrap his arms around that body, be pushed down and draped over, taking the weight that lands on him, and the tongue entwining his feels like nirvana.

“You’re disgusting,” he complains, a lifetime later, as he pulls away from the kiss, swiping at the saliva that trails between their lips.

“You love me anyway,” Yugyeom says, falling headfirst into a pillow beside him.

Jungkook feels his vision flash, heart skip, eyes widen in the pleasant thrum of shock.  He turns around, settling into the pillow, and he can’t say anything, but he smiles softly at the red ears Yugyeom can’t hide, and cuddles up close.


	9. Amor Fati

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgiveness doesn't come easy. The path is bleak.

“Come here.”

“What are you doing here?”  Yugyeom’s staring at him incredulously.  His hair is a light blond now, makes him look angelic, utterly sinful.  Jungkook hates it.  He loves it.  Yugyeom's eyes prod him to explain.  The shock might be understandable, but they don’t have the time.   Jungkook pulls him into the stairwell, away from the hotel door he was about to knock on.

“Jungkook….” There’s warning in that tone, and eyes are wide with confusion as he’s pushed against a wall, his hands caught in a tight grip.  “Not now.  I have to go.”  The button to his pants undone, and zip pulled down.  He tries to move his hands, straining at the restraint.  Jungkook doesn't know if he doesn't fight back because he doesn't want to, because he's used to it or if he's still so considerate of his damn arm.  “I’m serious.  I can’t!”

He pulls down the boxers, pulling away Yugyeom’s hands without resistance as he strokes at the length.  “Exactly.”

“W-What?”  Quivers run through Yugyeom’s body.  He gets hard so quickly, and Jungkook has to wonder if that’s because it’s him, because of the E or any other cocktail of drugs Yugyeom took tonight again, or if it’s a trick of the trade.  He reaches into his pocket, and slips the cock ring on.

“You can’t come tonight.”

There’s fear in Yugyeom’s eyes when he pulls away, and Jungkook reviles in it, lets his hands go.  He pulls the boxers back up, adjusts the pants, smiles at his handiwork outlined underneath.

“I- I can’t,” and Yugyeom’s shaking his head.

“I’m not asking, Gyeomie.  Do this for me.”  There’s disbelief in Yugyeom’s face.  His jaw clenches, muscle ticking and Yugyeom squeezes his eyes close before he nods.  The words still work, and Jungkook wields the power mercilessly.  He doesn’t look back as he strides out of the stairwell.  Jungkook hears the knock on the door steps away.

He wants to walk in, pull Yugyeom away.  But he can’t.  Neither of them controlled their own destinies.

He gets a call hours later, and lets the app with the camera feed close to answer it with whitened knuckles.  He’s waiting in the lobby, and he sees the man walk out of the elevator towards the valet.  He signals at the front desk, and gets a discreet nod from the woman.  Tomorrow, the newspapers would be lit with news of the scandal.  He had work to do.  But first: there are sobs on the other end.  “K-Kooks, please.  I need you.”

Jungkook made his way up, and the hotel keycard lets him in.  Yugyeom doesn’t think to question this, doesn’t have the means to, eyes dilated and body shaking as he reaches out to him from the bed.  Jungkook looked up, wonders for a moment if he should stop the cameras now.  He had gotten all the content they had asked for, enough to bury that man, devalue his stock, and make his company an easy buy.  It made his eyes flash.  It barely felt like enough when he wants him torn, hung out to dry, broken and bleeding.

“Come here,” he sat on the couch instead and beckoned.  He didn’t want to go near that bed, not after he’d seen what had happened there, like a train wreck he couldn’t turn away from.  Yugyeom stands up on shaky, long legs, pulling a blanket down with him, and he stumbles over.  He falls forward into Jungkook’s lap, clutching at his arms.  His erection is painfully red, cock ring still in place.  Jungkook ran his fingers around it, taking in the soft gasps.  So Yugyeom had managed to keep it on the whole time.

“You should have showered,” he says cruelly.

A soft sob leaves Yugyeom, and it almost makes him change his mind.  “Why are you being like this?” he begs plaintively.  “Help me, Kookie.  I need you.”  Long legs come up on either side of him.  Yugyeom smells like sweat and sex and his fingers sink into his hair.  “I need you so badly.  Thought of you the whole time…”

Jungkook clenched his teeth.  Yugyeom didn’t know, didn’t know that the room was tapped, that his target tonight wasn’t going to survive tomorrow.  He didn’t know Jungkook had been assigned to this, that he’d had to watch for over two hours as Yugyeom had gotten someone else off, let someone else touch him, had moaned and buckled his hips under another’s weight.

“Yeah?  Did you call my name out?”

There’s a minute shake of the head, and then a long whine as a nipple was twisted. 

“What did you tell him?  Why could you not come?”

There’s shivering on his lap.  “Wanted to re-remember him tonight after he was gone.”

Jungkook let his hand span one side of the waist.  The black tattoo that had taken over Yugyeom’s waist, marked the pale skin, a mark he'd obsessively drawn and perfected like the devil's pentacle before it had come to grace his skin.  Jungkook remembers the red slap Yugyeom had come home with the day after the tattoo had gone on his skin, his body not his own to mark up, value falling on the market.  He'd found new clients soon though - Yugyeom is as good at what he does as Jungkook is.  “Are you going to think about him then?  Remembering him now?”

There’s no hesitance with how quickly or forcefully Yugyeom shakes his head now.  He reaches a hand out and cups his jaw.  His blown out pupils suck Jungkook in.  “You.  Always you.”

It makes him pause, let out a bated breath.  He’s not ready to forgive, is not sure he ever will be, but it melts at him.  As much as a lighter can the glacier.  Jungkook pushed him off, thighs parting to let Yugyeom slide to the floor.  “Get me hard, and I’ll let you come.  Maybe.”

A choked moan follows, and Jungkook can see the way Yugyeom presses his body against the velvet of the couch, overstimulated.  There is dampness overflowing his eyes as hands worked as fast as they could to get the clothes off him.  Annoyance when Jungkook doesn’t help, so he pushes what he can down, makes his way in between legs to suck hard and fast, reaching down to play with balls.  Jungkook would never deny that Yugyeom was good at what he did, that he’d discovered every sensitive spot on him like it was a treasure map.  He moaned as Yugyeom got him up, pulling out all the stops, head falling in deep and Jungkook felt his cock encapsulated at the back of the throat, nose pressed into curls like he would never resurface again.  Penance.

“Don’t touch yourself,” he mentions when he notices a hand has fallen, and Yugyeom makes a noise around his cock.  Jungkook wrapped his fingers into that hair and tugged him up.  Lips left his cock reluctantly, plush and reddened.  Another whine, more coherent left his mouth this time.

“I don’t need to loosen you up, do I?”  Yugyeom’s shaking his head.  Jungkook scowled.  “Show me.”

A shadow runs through Yugyeom’s face.  He’s resigned, can’t care anymore.  As much as he doesn’t want to do this, he’d do anything for Jungkook.  He bent over, and let the other run his thumbs down, parting ass cheeks to reveal a reddened, puffy hole.  Well used.  He slipped a finger in, and the thighs in front of him shuddered.  It’s loose, but Yugyeom clenches around his finger anyway, a soft broken moan escaping him.  Those hips stutter, letting his finger fuck in and out.  Jungkook pushes in a longer finger, knuckle deep, presses and Yugyeom near screams, shuddering.  He loses balance, falls back him onto him.

He strokes down that chest, lets him calm down.  A soothing touch of comfort.  Yet, he turns his head away from the kiss that follows, lets Yugyeom kiss his cheek, his jaw, nuzzle his neck.  “Please, hurry, Kkooks.”

“If you’re so impatient, do it yourself.”  He pulls out the condom, rolls it on.  Yugyeom turns, hands braced on his shoulders and he’s shaking so much, there’s no strength to his grip.  Jungkook holds his waist as he aligns himself, slides down on him with an almost relieved moan. 

He leaned forward, catching a nipple with his mouth and sucked languidly as Yugyeom’s hips stuttered above his in a frantic pace.  It’s a means without relief, edging the end but Jungkook won’t, can’t let him go.  Even when Yugyeom can’t raise himself anymore, not even when he's slumped over the couch, ankles hooked around broader shoulders as Jungkook pounds into him.

When he pulls the cock ring off, after he’s come once, twice, and it's more a slippery roll of his hips, there’s barely anything that dribbles out of that cock.  His cock is red, angry and Yugyeom himself is gone, broken.  His face is white, his heart pounds so loud even Jungkook can hear his heartbeat and his eyes roll into the back of his head.  He’s gone, boneless, but not as weightless as his lanky form suggests when Jungkook picks him up.  Jungkook calls in room service, asks the bed to be redone as he takes Yugyeom to the shower.  He lies him on the sheets, makes him drink water, almost an entire bottle before he pulls out the memory cards from the cameras set up around the room and gets to work.  He saves the second half for himself, edits the rest, carefully blurring out Yugyeom’s face in every clip.

He sends it out and crawls into the fresh bed beside Yugyeom.


End file.
